


More to Me

by TheSilverField



Series: Myths and Other Monsters [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 17:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17881865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverField/pseuds/TheSilverField
Summary: I'm more, she thought. I'm more. I'm more.





	More to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisgirlsays22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlsays22/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Aer! You mean the world to me so I wanted to give you a little more than 400 words! And what better way to do that than to give you some Jeankasa as a surprise second gift?! I know it's not much, but I really hope you love it! <3  
> Ahh, you mean so much to me! I hope you're having the best day, the best weekend, the best month, the best year!! I love you so much, Aer! Happy birthday! <3

A fraying thread.

That’s how Mikasa imagined herself. She no longer felt like the girl she once was, or the strong woman she became, but as if she were one of the fraying threads of the timeworn scarf slipping between her fingers. It fell to the floor like the tears down her cheeks.

How many times had she cried since Eren left for Marley? How many times since his return? She lost count. But she reminded herself that showing emotion doesn’t mean that she’s weak. It means that she’s human, that she’s still some semblance of herself. That she’s not a slave.

_ I’m not, _ she thought.  _ I’m not. I’m not. _

She almost didn’t hear the quiet knocks on her door. But even though she did, she didn’t move to open it. Mikasa stared at her scarf--no, her hands--and ignored whoever was on the other side of the door. They knocked again, again, called out her name. She could hear now that it was Jean, the worry in the softness of his voice bringing her back if only slightly.

Before she could move to open the door, or wipe away the evidence that she had been crying, Jean was already there.

He sighed in relief when he saw her. He closed the door and in three quick steps he was in front of her, his arms winding around her waist. Mikasa fell against Jean’s chest, taking advantage of the comfort he provided, the soft words he whispered into her hair, the gentle touch of his hands as he rubbed her back.

“I’m not,” Mikasa whispered. “I’m not. I’m more.”

But for a moment, she didn’t believe herself. She felt her tears and thought weakness. She caught a glimpse of her scarf--a piece of herself--on the floor and thought slave. She held onto Jean and thought not good enough. Every insecurity came bubbling up her throat in sobs. Jean gave her the time she needed to cry, only speaking when the storm of her emotion passed.

“You’re right,” he affirmed softly. “You’re so much more. You’ve always been more to me.”

Those words almost made Mikasa smile. Though it was hard, she made herself believe him because Jean was honest. Jean had stayed. Jean comforted and embraced and kissed away pain. Jean believed in her. 

_ I’m more, _ she thought.  _ I’m more. I’m more. _

And this time, she really could believe it.


End file.
